Rumple Drabbles
by mysticknightsofscotland
Summary: A collection of drabbles or one-shots featuring Rumple, and often Belle.
1. Cell Phone

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Once Upon A Time. I'm just playing in their world for a bit.

**This will be a series of unconnected one-shots or drabbles that I may come up with from time to time. Most will be Rumple/Belle. I'll give a little scene-setting note when necessary.**

**First up: A drabble on the Season 4 hiatus.**

* * *

**Cell Phone**

He dreamed he was back in Storybrooke. Hardly anything had changed in his absence. Not even in his house. She still lived there. He could hear the water running in the shower, but he never saw her. Her cell phone was on the dresser. Next to it was a note. Any other house, the note would have been a gentle reminder to avoid confusing identical phones. Not here. Not anymore.

DON'T LEAVE YOUR PHONE NEXT TO MINE.

Were his possessions accursed now, too, that her phone could be corrupted by the proximity of his? Then the house and the shop should both be anathema to her. Yet her presence here seemed to say the opposite.

_The house is mine_, it seemed to say. _You have nothing. You are nothing. Leave._

So he left.


	2. Paint

**Season 4 hiatus AU.**

* * *

**Paint**

She watched him while he painted. The mural was huge, taking up a whole wall of the abandoned building, a hundred times larger than the paper sketch that she held in front of her. Every inch was done with such care, tracing the outlines first, then filling in the spaces, never once making a mistake.

She tried to do the same, using markers instead of paint. But she got distracted on the hair. Too many lines to trace, might as well just cover it all anyway. It'd be faster. By the time she noticed her mistake, half the collar was brown when it should have stayed white.

"Oh," she gasped. She looked up at him. "I, I'm so sorry."

He turned. For a moment, there was hopeful recognition in his eyes, as if she was worth something to him. But she wasn't. His shoulders seemed to slump, and his face relaxed into a gentle smile. He climbed down from his perch and came to sit beside Belle-not-Belle.

She held the paper out to him. "I messed up." She hid her face in her hands. "I'm terrible at this."

He looked at the picture, then handed it back. "No one is perfect, dearie. How would you fix it?"

The only solution she could think of was magic. Erase the brown stain as if it had never been there. But they weren't using magic. He had used magic to make her, a golem to keep him company, but the sketch in her hand and the mural on the wall had been done without magic, a testament to his love for her-who-was-not-her.

"Can you find me scissors and blank paper?" she asked, at last. "And some glue, or tape?"

He smiled and stroked her hair as he stood. She went back to coloring, around her mistake. When he came back with the supplies, she would cut around the white spaces and mount the rest on a fresh backing. And maybe by the time he finished the mural, they would both feel whole.


	3. Cops and Crosses

**Season 4B, slightly AU. Started with a dream I had back around Darkness on the Edge of Town, and I added as we got closer to Heart of Gold.**

* * *

**Cops and Crosses**

_**or**_

**Secrets and Lies**

The car chase ended like they all do. The cop, standing on the lawn in front of a dilapidated shack of a house, berated the driver, Cruella, for her erratic driving and the passenger, Emma, for letting her drive intoxicated in the first place. The cop had an odd habit of holding her hands in front of her, waist-high. No notebook and pen, just an occasional small gesture with the left hand. Only the left, never both.

They were just wrapping up when a nun came out of the convent next door.

"Mr. Gold?"

The cop turned, the glamour faded, and Mr. Gold stood in the cop's place, his cane planted before him as usual. Directly in front of the cane though, was a wooden cross, draped in blue beads. The top of the cross matched the height of the cane, so that when he rested his free hand on top of the one gripping his cane, his fingers caressed the wood as well.

The nun paused, then continued forward at a slower pace. "It is you. How can this be?"

Mr. Gold said nothing, but dropped his gaze. His thumb stroked the rough edge on the top of the cross.

"Wait. You know him?" Emma was ten times confused. They were outside Storybrooke, out in the Land Without Magic. And this nun, who couldn't possibly be a fairy, had just seen through a glamour spell that couldn't possibly exist. "What is going on here?"

"I think it's rather obvious, darling," Cruella drawled.

The nun didn't take her eyes off Gold, but answered Emma's question. "He lived here, with his son."

"He found Neal? Then why..."

"Neal was born here. It was the only home he ever knew."

Emma looked to Gold for an explanation, but he was fixated on the cross at his feet.

Cruella rolled her eyes. "He died, Savior."

"I know. I was there. But what does that..."

"Oh, darling. Open your eyes. It's not the boy she's surprised to see."

Gold finally looked up at Emma, but his eyes were dead.

_He's dead_, Emma thought. _When? How? What can I possibly tell Belle?_ But then she blinked, and his eyes returned to normal, though shaded by a sorrow deeper than she'd seen the day Neal died in her arms.

"So what was it, Dark One?" Cruella asked. "Did of box of knickknacks fall on your head?"

Gold's smirk looked more like a grimace, but Emma could almost hear his laughter in her head. _No. Not his head, but his heart._

Her next thought woke her with its icy touch.

_He knows._

* * *

She found Belle in the library. She was shelving books from a cart. Emma didn't wait for a greeting.

"What do you know about dream interpretation?" she asked.

Belle looked over, smiling. "Some dreams are symbolical, some literal, but most are just dreams. Why do you ask?"

Emma shoved her hands in her pockets and shifted from one foot to the other. "What if the dreamer has magic?"

Belle picked up another book. "I suppose it could manifest in more prophetic dreams, but-"

"I think you should break up with Will," Emma blurted.

That caught the librarian off guard. "What? I thought you were happy for us." She put the book down and stepped away from the cart.

"I am. I mean, I was. I mean, maybe not break up with him, but keep him away for a while."

Belle laughed. "Emma, what are you talking about?"

"He knows." Belle's smile disappeared, and Emma looked around as if they might be overheard in the empty library. "I saw him in my dream, and he knows. He knows, and it's killing him, and as soon as he's done being hurt, he's going to be pissed. And when he's pissed, you don't want Will anywhere near you, for both your sakes."

"He's not here," Belle said. Emma wondered if she was afraid to speak her husband's name or if it just hurt too much to think about. "Cruella and Ursula said they left him drunk in a bar in New York and took his phone. How can he know?"

"Do you really believe that? David told me how he reacted to finding you in the Rabbit Hole as Lacey."

Belle frowned. "No. You're right, it doesn't sound very much like him." The look on her face was hard to decipher. "You said you saw him in your dream. How was he? Did he say anything? Do anything?"

Emma shook her head. "He just stood there, behind a little wooden cross. He looked at me like he did when Neal died, but worse."

"Worse how?"

"Like Gold was dead, and he knew it."

Belle nodded, taking a deep breath. "If your dream is true, then it's not Gold we have to worry about."

Emma blinked. "It's not?"

"If he's back in Storybrooke, if he's seen me with Will and hasn't done anything yet, then Mr. Gold may as well be dead. It's the Dark One we need to watch out for. We have to be smarter, draw him out."

"The dagger-"

"No," said Belle, a little too quickly. "Not unless we have no other choice. I won't do that to him again."

"Then what can we do?"

Belle sighed. "I need to talk to him."

* * *

Rumplestiltskin hadn't appeared when Belle had summoned him last night. That meant that either he truly was not in Storybrooke, or the dagger she gave Killian was a fake.

She was relieved, at first, to think he wasn't there. She missed him, wished they could go back to the way things were before he'd proposed to her with a fake dagger, but she was terrified of facing him again. He had deceived her for so long about the dagger, despite multiple opportunities to take it back or admit it wasn't real, that she was afraid her love for him would draw her back into his darkness.

And that was to say nothing of how she betrayed him. He had forgiven her for using the dagger when it was fake. How forgiving would he be now that she'd saved his enemy, prevented him from getting whatever it was he wanted from the hat, banished him from her life, and moved on with another man? She'd seen him torture Robin Hood and beat Killian with his cane, but it was Killian's description of how Rumple had ripped out Milah's heart and crushed it that haunted her. Would her fate be any different from that of his first wife?

And now she had traded away her only protection in a potentially misguided attempt to save the town and maybe even the Dark One himself.

She hadn't slept in their house since she banished him, preferring the apartment above the library over the painful memories of their brief marriage. She dusted once a week and otherwise kept things in order, but this was the first time she'd come specifically to think about him. Regardless of where he might hide in town, she felt close to him here.

Perhaps it was only her imagination, but his presence felt stronger today somehow, as if he could hear her even if she could not see him. He had done so at the Dark Castle. Was it so outrageous to think that he could do the same thing here?

"Rumplestiltskin!" she called. "If you can hear me, I know you're in town. And if you are in town, I know you must have your dagger."

There was no response, save for the creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet.

"Haven't we hurt each other enough? I'm sorry I forced you to leave, but that doesn't make what you did okay. We both made mistakes and we're both paying the price."

The silence stretched on, but she felt a cold dread in her heart. Emma's words echoed in her ears. _He knows, and it's killing him_.

"Please," she whispered. "Don't hurt anyone else because of me. Let it go. Let the darkness go and be free."

Tears were gathering in her eyes as she left the ghost of her true love behind in the empty house.

* * *

Gold sat on the edge of their bed, turning the chipped cup over in his hands as he listened to his wife move about downstairs.

She was afraid of him. It hurt worse than he thought it would. From the day she chipped this cup, she had never feared him. She no longer believed he could change, right when he truly was beginning to change. And still he loved her. But he couldn't show her. He had to continue this charade a little while longer.

How many days did he have left? Three? Five? A week? It hardly mattered. Three hundred years of darkness, and all he had left to lose was his life. He had to finish his task before it was too late. All magic came with a price.

And the debt must be paid.

* * *

**As I said, this was written before Heart of Gold. I waited this long to post because I just didn't know where to go from there. Reviews, please! I know it's terrible, but it is a good showcase of how I think Emma and Belle might have felt about Gold at the time, versus Gold's POV.**


	4. The Thunder Rolls

**Slighty AU, non-specific timeline, but let's say 3B-4A.**

**Semi-songfic to _The Thunder Rolls_ by Garth Brooks. Semi- because I don't include the lyrics (except for the end chorus). The lyrics _are_ the story, for the most part. Some sentences are exactly the lyrics (though I did try to tone down the rhyming).**

* * *

**The Thunder Rolls**

The clock on the dash reads 3:30 AM as Mr. Gold drives his Cadillac down the empty streets of Storybrooke. Lightning flashes in the distance, and the first drizzle of the coming storm patters on his windshield, but he stays well below the speed limit, headlights off. Just another shadow in the night, slinking by, hoping to get home without alerting the town to his presence.

No one can know. Not even Belle. Especially not Belle. The wicked spring is fading away. This will be a cleansing summer of healing, if only he can make it through tonight.

Thunder rumbles, barely louder than the Cadillac's hum. And the rain comes down.

* * *

Every light in the old Victorian house is on as Belle paces in front of the table in the hall where her phone sits, silent. A particularly loud burst of thunder has her wrapping her bathrobe tighter over her nightgown. She wonders at the rain's constant drumming if she'd even hear the phone if it rang.

She hadn't thought it odd when Rumple told her to go back to sleep at 1:00 AM. He'd said he needed a bit of fresh air and would come back to bed in a moment. But he never did. An hour later, she'd gone looking for him, finding the house empty and the Cadillac gone.

Now it's inching towards 3:45 AM, and she worries as the storm rages on that her worst fears are true. It would take a miracle, but she prays to whatever gods might be listening: _Don't let me be right. Let it be a nightmare, or even the weather, keeping him out all night. Anything but what the signs are saying he's up to._

She's waiting by the window when the Cadillac pulls into the driveway. The storm hasn't lessened at all, but she rushes out to meet him regardless, too thankful that he's alive to care about getting drenched. It's a silly thought, fearing that the immortal Dark One could be defeated by a summer storm. Her relief as he steps out of the car makes her smile despite the rain in her face.

* * *

He sees her run out of the house as he parks the car, and his heart sinks. Another failure. He knows he won't be able to run from this one, but he holds out hope that he can deflect her suspicions, at least for tonight. That hope lasts until he is out of the car, when a very wet Belle hurls herself into his arms.

The wind bombards them with gusts of rain while thunder continues to echo across town. He tries to speak, but the words wash away in the storm. She looks up at him with love and caresses the side of his face with her hand, brushing aside his own damp hair. He leans into her touch, and without thinking, bends his head down to kiss her. She stiffens and pulls away.

This time, the lightning flash is reflected in her eyes, and it frightens him more than anything ever has. _She knows_.

* * *

The slam of the front door rivals the thunder crack that follows. She runs up the stairs to their bedroom, trailing rainwater with each step. The dagger is still in the dresser drawer where she keeps it hidden. She turns it over in her hands, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The lady dressed in a sodden bathrobe has fire in her eyes that scorns the tears that drip from her hair. She is no more Belle than the man downstairs with magic on his breath is her Rumple.

She tells the lady in the mirror that he won't do this again, because tonight will be the last time she'll wonder where he's been.

_The thunder rolls_  
_And the lightning strikes_  
_Another love grows cold_  
_On a sleepless night_  
_As the storm blows on_  
_Out of control_  
_Deep in her heart_  
_The thunder rolls_


	5. Don't Take My Belle

**A Rumbelle Baby One-Shot**

**Aimed at the future, but written during the early episodes of season 5, inspired by the announcement of Emilie's pregnancy. ****Plot inspired by the song "Don't Take The Girl" by Tim McGraw, specifically the third verse. The first two verses are thematically represented in the prologue in a 1, 2, 1, 2 pattern.**

* * *

**Don't Take My Belle**

It started with a kiss.

No. It started with an ogre and a cry for help. It started with a yes. _Yes, I can help you protect your little town, for a price._ It started with _Yes, I will go with you forever._ And so, the deal was struck.

It started with _I'm not looking for love._

A few weeks later, a kidnapping transformed into a rescue, the ransom paid in magic. But why? _Why do you care about me?_ The lie: _I don't._ And the truth: _If anyone's going to crush your heart, it's gonna be me._

Timeless years later, love said goodbye to love. She wanted to go with him, but he asked her to stay. _I will see you again, _she said, and he admired her faith. But the price he had to pay was steep, and he couldn't put her at risk by leading her into a fight. He knew he would lose his life in order to win, to save his grandson in a final act of redemption for his failure with his son. He had to let her go before he lost her, too.

Two years later, he had lost her anyway. Driven away from everything he knew, he came back to find her in the arms of another man. After he tricked her into giving him back his dagger, he expected she'd never want to see him again. Against all odds, she called for him, and he answered.

They met at the well where things once lost are returned. Though their encounter was painful and awkward, it gave him hope. She understood his desperate attempt to save his blackened heart from the darkness devouring his soul. She said she worried she gave up on him too soon. And they embraced for the first time in too long.

But elation became despair in one crushing revelation. He would never know how much of their tearful reunion was authentic and how much was prompted by Regina's commanding of Belle's heart. Even if Regina were to tell him, or Belle were to regain her memories, he would always doubt.

He caved all the same the moment the former Evil Queen tightened her grip and began to squeeze. He'd do anything to keep Belle's heart safe, even if she no longer loved him. And keep it safe, he did.

* * *

_Same old Rumple, same sweet Belle, three years down the road._

Their dreams were coming true. They had repaired their relationship in the wake of his heart attack and subsequent stasis coma. Waking up to discover that he was no longer the Dark One had not been easy on him. He'd needed time to adjust to his new reality before he could even begin to process that Belle still loved him.

But all that was behind them now. After all this time, they were finally together and happier than they'd ever been. They were having a baby.

Belle went into labor seven weeks early. Rumple rushed her to the hospital and stayed by her side, worrying all the while. He hadn't been there when Bae was born, and all his expectations and research didn't prepare him for the reality.

Hours later, Rumple held a tiny new life in his hands. Far tinier than Bae had been, too tiny. But alive. He had a son again. He was a father again. And this time, he would not fail his boy.

"The baby's fine, Mr. Gold," Dr. Whale said. "But you might want to hand him to a nurse. Belle needs you."

Rumple looked up. Belle had been quiet when she had handed him their baby. Now she was pale, the nurses fluttering around her. The memory of a high pitched flatline echoed in his ears, and he stopped breathing. He didn't notice the nurse who gently took his son from his arms.

The lead nurse rattled off a list of stats to Whale, but all Rumple heard was, "She's fading fast."

Rumple hit his knees so hard, he startled a nurse into catching him by the arm.

"Mr. Gold!"

Rumple looked up at Dr. Whale, who had turned at the nurse's exclamation. He felt as he had when he'd woken in the Dark Swan's basement lair, helplessly tied to a gate. It took a moment for the words to come, and when they did, they were small and thin.

"Save her," he breathed. "I can't. I can't." Tears choked him, and his hands fluttered in useless gestures. "I can't."

Dr. Whale stared at him, then whispered something to one of the nurses, who nodded before leaving the room.

The nurse holding Rumple's arm helped him to his feet and into a chair by Belle's head.

Dr. Whale said, "I need you to calm down, Mr. Gold. _Belle_ needs you to calm down. She's in good hands."

Rumple doubted that, but took a deep breath. He grasped Belle's hand, sparing a glance across the room at the nurse tending his newborn son before focusing on Belle's face.

Why did it always have to end up this way? Roughly 300 years of life, and his circumstances hadn't changed much at all. He was still a coward, and if the worst should happen, his son would be left without a mother. How much longer would it take for him to lose his son as well? Without Belle, he was bound to mess up sooner or later, make the wrong choice that would seal his fate once again.

It wasn't like it had been with Milah and Bae. Milah had been unhappy for years. A small part of Rumple had been relieved to be free of her constant disapproval, but mostly he had felt abandoned and humiliated. Even worse, his heart broke every time Bae cried over his missing mother. But now he had a wife who truly loved him. If he lost Belle now, their son would never know his mother, but would have to live with a father broken beyond repair.

Rumple knew he couldn't bear losing Belle again. He literally would not survive. Oh, he'd try for the sake of the baby, but he'd be without hope.

That thought reminded him of how Belle had saved him when he'd been in the coma wanting to die, deserving to die.

As the nurses finished hooking Belle up to half a dozen monitors, IV drips, and other assorted gadgets, Rumple leaned in close and spoke to his wife as if he were simply telling her a bedtime story.

"My love," he said. "Remember when we were in the storybook? The Author gave us the Charmings' baby Neal as our own. You were such a good mother to him. And now that we have a son of our own, I know you will be the best mother."

He paused to stroke her hair and gather himself. The nurses had receded, now focusing on the baby and the incubator cart that had been wheeled in. _Too tiny_, he thought again. Dr. Whale had assured them that as long as the baby's growth continued at an acceptable rate, they'd be able to take him home within a month or so. Rumple tried so hard not to think about the alternative that implied, tried to focus on Belle and not the baby – _his_ baby – that might be killing her even now, that might die and leave him with nothing because it was too tiny and came too soon.

The arrival of the former mayor saved him from that dangerous line of thinking. The nurse Dr. Whale had whispered to led her in, looking as far from her Madam Mayor persona as he did Mr. Gold. He had never been so relieved to see her.

"Regina," he started, but stopped when he realized he was crying. He swallowed his tears and watched as she took in the room and came to stand across from him, on Belle's other side.

Dr. Whale stepped aside without comment. The nurse must have filled her in, or else no explanation was needed. Regina held her hands out over Belle's head and chest. Rumple couldn't sense magic anymore, but he remembered how it felt, could imagine what it was telling her about Belle's condition.

He forgot how to breathe when she sighed and looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Gold," she said. She seemed to mean it, too. "There's nothing I can do. My healing magic isn't strong enough. Her heart..."

"Take mine."

The words escaped before he realized he was trembling.

Regina blinked at him. "What?"

He gripped Belle's hand harder, his other hand clutching at his chest as if he could show her. "Take my heart," he said. "Give it to her, split it, whatever you have to do. You did it for Charming, you can do it for Belle."

"What if I can't?"

His voice slipped into a higher register. "I don't care!"

"You could die."

"So long as Belle lives," he growled, "I will gladly pay that price."

Dr. Whale had the decency to look shocked, but Regina scowled. "That's the same attitude your son had when he walked right into Zelena's trap. And here you are, making the same mistake, condemning yet another generation of your family to growing up without a father."

That made him pause. He looked away, tried to shake the guilt that still clung to him. He couldn't meet her gaze, so he stared at Belle's hand in his as he said, "I can't lose her. I just can't."

A moment passed before Regina sighed. "Fine. But we're doing this my way."

Regina's way involved Dr. Whale's supervision. Rumple was hooked up to hospital monitors as well, and they moved down the hall to the surgery. The monitoring equipment itself wasn't so bad. At least he didn't have a breathing tube shoved down his throat. But the constant beeping of their heartbeats – his strong and steady (if nervous), Belle's feeble and failing – was driving him insane.

The moment Regina's hand plunged into his chest, he knew he'd made a terrible mistake. Not in offering his heart to save Belle, never that. But in too readily accepting that this was the only way. He nearly had a heart attack just from the brush of Regina's fingers against his heart. He stared up at the ceiling, frozen, fighting to control his terror as she literally held his life in her hand. His fingers clutched the edges of his hospital mattress in a death grip in a desperate attempt to keep him grounded as he felt himself drifting on a tidal wave of panic.

Everything narrowed down to that one white ceiling tile, the one with a brown water stain in the corner. He could barely focus on the beeping of his heart monitor, steady despite his heart being outside his body. A distant part of him registered this as remarkable. Or was that steady beep Belle's, and his the faltering one?

A touch of pressure somewhere in the vicinity of his chest, and then...

* * *

A month later, Moe French drove to the hospital with an infant carrier strapped into the passenger's seat. Dr. Whale had finally given the okay for baby Connor Gold to go home, and Moe was thrilled. He couldn't wait to be the best grandfather ever.

He knew the path to the hospital nursery by heart, having visited nearly every day for the past month. The nurses greeted him cheerfully as he passed, a few who knew the importance of the day congratulating him and expressing their jealousy. Connor was even more adorable than Prince Neal, to hear them say it, and Moe believed them, despite who his father was.

Said father was holding the precious babe as Moe entered the nursery. Mr. Gold was sitting in a rocking chair next to Connor's hospital crib, feet planted flat on the floor, perhaps the only person in all the worlds able to resist rocking in such a chair. For all intents and purposes, he was lost to the world. The baby was asleep in his arms, his tiny fist wrapped around his father's finger, holding him in thrall more surely than the Dark One dagger ever had. Even Moe had to admit that the Beast had lost his bark.

Gold didn't move until Moe reached a hand out to touch his grandson's head in greeting. He looked up then, startled, his eyes wide with fear until Moe shushed him. "It's time to take the little one home," Moe whispered.

Gold came back to himself then, taking deep, slow breaths until the fog of daydreams left his eyes. He nodded and smiled. "Yes." He passed the baby to Moe before standing with the help of his signature cane. "Where's Belle?" he asked.

Moe frowned. He didn't know?

A nurse came in with some last-minute forms to be signed, and Moe busied himself studying his sleeping grandson while Gold juggled pen, cane, and clipboard. The boy looked just like Belle had as a baby, but Moe was disappointed he had inherited Gold's brown eyes. Not that they were visible just now. He'd seen them the few times the infant had been awake.

Asleep, Moe could pretend Connor belonged to Belle alone. They'd named him in honor of her mother, Colette, because the more direct correlations of Colin or Cole appealed to neither of them, and Gold's relations weren't worth the honor apart from Baelfire. They'd agreed that two young Neals running around Storybrooke would be too much, and Moe couldn't fault them for avoiding even the possibility of giving the boy his dead brother's true name. Families were awkward enough in Storybrooke.

The nurse left, and Gold wandered out into the hall. "Ah, there you are," Moe heard him say. "I was starting to wonder if you had decided to stay."

"Sorry, they wouldn't let me carry anything, so I had to wait for someone to grab the bags." Belle poked her head into the room. "Hey there! Ready to go?" She smiled at the sight of Moe holding the baby. "I think he likes you," she whispered.

"I think he's just tired," Gold quipped. "He's been asleep since before your father arrived."

Belle swatted at Gold's arm. "Rumple! Be nice."

Gold just grinned. He looked over at Moe and shrugged.

And Moe shrugged back. He might never call Gold his son-in-law, but like it or not, they were family now.

Forever.

* * *

He was such a tiny baby. Such a little thing, so cute, so perfect, nestled in the warmth of the shawl that had once belonged to his half-brother such a long time ago.

Someday, he would hear the stories. The world's fairytales, he would know as history. His history.

It would be until he turned six before he'd begin to put the pieces together, that his mother was Belle of Avonleah, not Storybrooke. It would be a while longer before he realized that the teacher, the guide, the trickster, the constant presence in almost all the stories was his father.

He'd be fourteen before he understood.

Before he'd learn what happened when he was born and understand just how much his father loved his mother.

And how much they both loved their tiny baby.


	6. Unseen

**A Skin Deep era fic.**

**Written as a bonus for Rumbelle Secret Santa 2015. Rumple rescues Belle from Regina. Contains season 5 references.**

* * *

**Unseen**

"She died."

Regina's words echoed long after she left. They repeated themselves in his head until they became his words. _She died, and it's your fault, you coward. You stupid, blind coward!_

Why, oh why did he have to be too afraid of losing everything that he'd worked for to believe that Belle's love could be true? She had been right about him. She was _always_ right about him. _An empty heart and a chipped cup,_ indeed.

On a pedestal near the entrance to the Great Hall was a grail. Not _The Grail_, of course. That would be ridiculous. He knew what had become of the legendary Grail, all Dark Ones did, and he doubted it had ever been Holy. No, this grail was merely a replica taken from some fool of a collector who thought it was real, but had an unfortunate overspending habit. Half the treasures in the Hall had come from that deal, and some of them were actually the genuine article.

He kept the false grail on the pedestal by the door to baffle visitors as they came in. Some were even brave enough to ask how the Dark One had acquired such a holy relic. Wouldn't the Grail's purity burn one as dark as him? Oh, their ignorance was quite amusing.

When he finally gathered the will to move from the doorway following Regina's departure, the first thing he did was replace the grail with the chipped cup. A symbol to remember her by, it would be a reminder that he could still feel heartbreak, that it was still possible for his dark heart to love someone other than Bae, and for someone to love him back.

_Oh, Belle_...

The beast cried.

* * *

He couldn't concentrate on his spinning for the rest of the day. He tried, but every little noise that didn't come from the wheel distracted him, would make him pause until he remembered that she wasn't coming back.

He had never tried to See her future. He rarely used that power for anything that wasn't directly related to finding Bae. But now he tried. It was foolish, he knew. How could he See a future that no longer existed? And he was right. He couldn't See her no matter how hard he tried.

He Saw other things though, with no context. Him beating Belle's father with a cane in the Land Without Magic. Standing at a well with a wedding ring in his pocket. Regina's tower. An empty forest road at night. Only one of those images was from this world. The curse was coming soon. If he was meant to go to Regina's tower to discover the meaning of the vision, he'd best do it now. Once he gave himself over to the Charmings, there'd be no going back. He watched Regina thought the crystal ball until she left her castle again, then transported himself into the tower.

He appeared on a landing near the top of the spiral staircase and put a sleeping spell on the guard before he even noticed the intruder. No sense getting Regina suspicious over his curiosity.

The guard was interesting, though. What could Regina be hiding at the top of a previously empty tower that required a guard and magical warding that prevented him from entering the room directly?

He paused. What if it wasn't about keeping him out, but keeping a prisoner in? What if it was Cora? He cast a glamour disguising himself as a guard. He wasn't about to open that jar of worms unprepared.

The door at the top of the stairs was only locked by mundane means, but magical wards surrounded it, no doubt meant to warn Regina when they were breached. He peered through the tiny, barred opening in the door, and saw scratches on the opposite wall. Tally marks counting the days of imprisonment, perhaps? No, the groupings were irregular, as if made by different hands. But which set belonged to the current prisoner?

Beneath the scratches, said prisoner lay curled up on a stone bench, draped in blue rags. The form was feminine, but while she had long brown hair, he knew it wasn't Cora. It wasn't Snow or the wolf-girl either. Who, then, would need to be guarded with magic?

He stepped back and studied the wards, trying to puzzle it out. A new sorceress to teach and play against Regina could be fun, but his heart ached for Belle. He was in no shape for a pupil right now, and what was the point with the final stages of his plan upon them? Soon he'd be in a Land Without Magic, asleep to everything he was here until the Savior came to break the curse and help him find his son.

What bliss that would be, to have a reprieve from his heartbreak.

He finally found the weakness in the wards. Regina had mixed protection spells, no doubt thinking it would make them stronger. Instead, it gave him an opening to bypass her blood magic without being detected. He raised a hand to unlock both the door and the wards, but stopped.

_A guard. Remember you're a guard. She might be Cora, but that doesn't mean she's not just as dangerous_.

He settled for giving the door one good thump. In his best imitation of Hordor, he called out, "Sit up! I've got a question for you."

The woman pushed herself up and swung her feet to the floor. She looked up, and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

He was through the door and kneeling at her feet before he realized he'd dropped the glamour.

"Belle," he gasped, reaching out to touch her and finding her hands to be solid in his. "You're alive."

"Rumplestiltskin," she said. "You came for me."

_No, I didn't. But it doesn't matter, I'm here now._ "I thought you were dead. Regina said you were dead." His voice was flat, his mind processing the words only after he'd said them. "Regina..."

Belle's eyes widened, and she squeezed his hands, drawing his attention back to her. "No," she scolded. "Whatever revenge you're plotting, don't. It's not worth it. Just, please, let's go home, and we can talk."

_Home._

* * *

He was still in disbelief when they appeared back in the Great Hall. She'd been gone for months, but Belle headed directly for the kitchens with barely a glance at the room. He followed.

"Belle, you have to tell me what happened to you. Regina said-"

"I know," Belle said, pausing to touch his arm, her expression sad. "I know what she told you, and I'm sorry. It was a horrible thing for her to say."

He waited for her to say more, but she merely turned and kept going. When they reached the kitchens, she set about making tea. When she reached for the cups, she searched a moment, then turned to him.

"What happened to your cup?" she asked.

"They're all my cups."

"No. I mean the chipped cup, your favorite."

He wanted to say it was no matter, but it was a big matter. He hadn't used that cup since she left. He wanted to smile and make a quip, but he could only stare.

Belle frowned. "Did something happen to it?"

"No, no," he said, too quickly. At her concerned look, he caved. He summoned it to his hands in a cloud of magic. "It's just..." He looked down at the cup. Damn it, she was alive and back in his castle! He should be thrilled, not afraid. Even his usual excuses had abandoned him.

Belle's hands encircled his around the cup, her soft touch warm against his scaled, discolored skin. He looked up and found his courage in her blue eyes.

"Since you left, this has been the only thing I truly cherished. I just didn't realize until..."_ Regina_. "Belle, please, you have to tell me what happened."

She took the cup from his hands and pulled away to pour them some tea. "I don't want you going after Regina for this." She handed him his tea. "I know you're better than that."

"I'm not," he said, taking a sip.

"You are. You're proving it right now by waiting."

"Then tell me what happened!"

She settled back against the preparation table and sipped her tea. "I had an adventure," she said, smiling. "But when it was over, I realized there was somewhere else I'd rather be. Regina captured me as I was coming back."

He blinked. _Coming back? Here?_

Belle must have read the confusion on his face. "You still don't get it, do you? She wanted to use me to get to you, because she can see what you won't admit." She put her cup down and stood facing him.

He tensed, remembering what happened the last time she called him out on his cowardice. "Don't leave me," he whispered. "Not again."

But she was smiling. "I just said I was coming back, and you think I'm going to leave?" She shook her head, laughing a little. She looked into his eyes and touched his arm. "When you find something worth fighting for, you never give up."

"That's why I can't lose my power," he said. "I have to find my son."

"Your son? But you said he was-"

"Lost. Not dead. I can't give up my power." _My power means more to me than you. My power means I have a chance to redeem myself. It means I have a chance to tell Bae that I love him, and apologize for breaking our deal. A chance for him to forgive me._

"I understand," Belle said. "But I also know that I'll never stop fighting for you. And that includes helping you find your son, with or without magic."

He stared at her. To think that he was worth fighting for... He set the chipped cup on the table and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Oh, sweetheart." How had he ever come to deserve her? "I love you." The words slipped out, but he knew they were true, and it terrified him because he still could not See her future.

"I love you too."


	7. Operation Teacup

**Operation Mongoose (S4 finale) missing scenes. RSS asked for a rewrite with more Belle.**

* * *

**Operation Teacup**

Enough was enough. Belle couldn't get him out of her head. How he'd apologized with words that meant more than a simple, "I'm sorry." How he'd pushed her heart into her chest so carefully. How he'd looked at her for the last time with such sadness and regret before walking out the door of his shop without turning back once. The heavy slowness of those steps promising to take him out of her life forever. Most of all, the way he'd entrusted her to Will without a fight because he believed himself unworthy. With her heart back in her chest, she couldn't stop worrying about what this unexpected change in him meant. So when word got around Granny's that Mr. Gold had abruptly abandoned his breakfast bagel and magicked himself away because he was about to collapse, Belle knew what she had to do.

Enough was enough.

The door to the shop was locked when she got there, and her key wouldn't turn, so he had to be there. She squinted through the windows, between the gaps in the blinds, trying to see inside the darkened shop. It was difficult, but she thought she saw movement, and shadows where there shouldn't be any. She knocked on the window.

"Rumple?" she called. "Rumple, I know you're in there!" She jiggled the key in the lock again. "Let me in. Whatever you're doing in there, just please, let me in! Stop shutting me out."

The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Belle stumbled inside, eyes adjusting to the dark.

"Belle."

Rumple was slumped on the floor, his back to a display case and his legs stretched out in front of him. His head rested back against the glass, his eyes fixed on her. He reached a hand towards her. "You came," he breathed, before doubling up in pain, the outstretched hand dropping to the floor.

"Rumple!"

Horrified, she rushed to his side. She knelt beside him, one hand going to his shoulder even as her other hand was caught by Rumple's sudden death-grip on her sleeve. He gasped in pain and fell against her.

"Don't worry, Dark One," the Author said from where he stood behind a counter, writing. "It will all be over soon."

Rumple went slack in her arms, panting. Belle wrapped her arm around his shoulders and held him tight.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "What's going on? What's happening to him?"

"Doesn't matter," Rumple groaned, still clinging to her coat sleeve as though it was the only thing keeping him conscious.

Belle looked back up at the Author in time to see his raised eyebrow drop. He met her gaze and gave her a reassuring smile. "The darkness is consuming his heart, but I've written it out of the story." With that, he touched pen to paper for the final time.

* * *

Belle had just put the baby down for its nap when she heard a rapid knock at the door followed by two slower ones. Outside stood a man in strange clothes, claiming to be a traveler and asking for a sip of water before continuing his journey. Her husband arrived shortly after, and Belle left them to chat while she fetched some fresh water from the well.

She had just filled the cup and was turning back to the house when someone called her name.

"Belle? You're Belle, right?" The boy was nearly grown, and dressed in the same strange clothes as the traveler.

"Yes," she said. "This is turning out to be quite the day for visitors. Did you get separated from your companion?"

The boy blinked, and stopped. "Wait. You mean, he's here? Already?" He looked around.

"Dark hair, clothes like yours, a bag he carries on a strap over his shoulder?" Belle smiled. "Yes, he's just inside talking to Rumple. Is he your father? Or an uncle, perhaps?" Truth be told, the boy didn't look much like the traveler apart from his coloring and attire.

Oddly, the boy didn't look relieved. He stared at the house like an ogre was about to come charging through the door, and crept closer to the well. "This is bad. This is really, really bad. He is not my father. Or my uncle. He's a villain." His hands fluttered along the edge of the well, ready to duck behind it at any moment. "He's a villain and if he gets through to Rumplestiltskin, he'll make him a villain too."

Belle almost laughed. "But that's impossible. Rumple's the Light One. He's a hero."

The boy looked away from the door and met her gaze. "I know. I met him. He saved me from an ogre." He glanced back at the door before turning his full attention to her. "But it's not real. None of this is real."

Belle shook her head. "Are you sure you're alright? Ogres can be pretty nasty." Surely the boy must have hit his head or something during the attack.

"I'm not insane! I know how it sounds, but it's all here, in this book." He pulled a battered volume from his bag, flipping the pages to the last chapter. "See? This is where the Knight Rumplestiltskin saves a village from an ogre and asks for nothing in return. I was there. He asked me if I had any family nearby. But I'm not in the book, because that man in your house right now is the one who wrote it." He turned to the back of the book and showed her the picture. "That's him, right?"

It was the traveler. Belle took the book and skimmed the pages, searching. At any mention of her name, or Rumple's, she stopped and read a bit. Private conversations that nobody could know about, written out for all to read. Not every moment was captured, but every one that was, read true. The villages her husband had saved, the people who came to offer their thanks, the children who liked to race alongside Rumple's horse when he came home. Even the quiet moments of joy they shared with their newborn son.

She shut the book and handed it back. "No, this can't be right."

"Please, Belle! I need your help to fix this. That man took away my family's happy endings by trapping them in this book. If we can get Rumplestiltskin to help us stop the ending from coming true, you'll both be heroes!"

The door opened, and the boy ducked down behind the well. "He can't know I'm here," he hissed.

What a strange day this was turning out to be.

The traveler made his goodbyes to Rumple from the doorway, then turned and saw Belle by the well. She smiled and held out the cup of water.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked. "You're welcome to rest here for a while. Maybe even stay for dinner?"

He accepted the water, but didn't drink. "You are too kind. But no, I really must be going." He took a quick sip, and handed the cup back. "It's been a pleasure."

"If you ever come back this way, do stop by and tell us of your adventure."

The traveler nodded. "Farewell."

She watched him cross the village until he was out of sight, then turned back to the well. The boy was standing next to it, glowering at the point where the man had disappeared.

"So, do you want to speak to Rumple, or not?" she asked, then winked at the boy's shocked expression. "I'm sure he'll be happy to help."

* * *

In the end, all it took was one word to convince Rumple to do the right thing: _Grandpa_.

Finding a way to save Rumple after he saved them? Well, that's another story.


	8. Truth or Dagger

**Anon Prompt, pre-season 6**

**A Post-Jekyll/Hyde future fic**

Prompt: How about someone is controlling Rumple with his dagger and making him do terrible things. And when he tries to tell the other characters (including Belle) that it wasn't him they don't believe him and try to make him pay for what he's done

Result: Post-Jekyll/Hyde arc. Strange things are happening, but the kidnapping of baby Robin and baby Neal is the last straw. Storybrooke's extreme prejudice against Gold blinds them to the threat that lurks in the shadows.

**Please don't hate me! Everyone is really mean to Rumple in this, but you have Nonnie to thank for that.**

* * *

**Truth or Dagger**

When baby Neal and baby Robin went missing from their cribs, even Belle had to admit things had gone too far. Rumplestiltskin had been especially shifty of late, and didn't even blink when Regina and Snow came to him for help.

"I know," he said. "But I can't help you."

Regina and Snow were appropriately outraged. "You _know_?" screeched one, and "Can't, or won't?" scolded the other.

"Rumple..." started Belle.

"I won't, dearie, because I can't." The words were harsh, but there was a hint of fear in his eyes when he looked at Belle.

She knew that look, and it turned her blood cold. She lay her hands over her growing belly, horrified that he could be so nonchalant about the well-being of two infants after having to fight for the safety of the one he sold before it ever existed. That look in his eyes wasn't guilt. It was the fear and sadness of knowing he was about to lose her _again_ because of his wrong choices.

"No," she said. "Whatever deal you made, whatever dark magic you're planning to use two innocent _children_ for, it ends now."

"Tell us where they are, Gold," Regina snarled, "before I decide to torch everything in this shop."

"You don't get it, do you?" Rumple's voice crept higher, his hand motions becoming more flamboyant the more they cornered him. "I. Don't have. The. Dagger. I can't help you any more than I could help my son when Zelena had me locked in a cage."

"Oh-ho. So that's what this is about." Regina stalked forward, getting right up into Rumple's face and smirking when he took a step back. "You're still trying to get back at my sister for what she did to you. Well, guess what? I don't think she made you suffer enough."

Rage and pain flickered across Rumple's face, but his lips remained clamped shut as he swallowed back whatever retort he'd been about to give.

Snow took at more gentle approach. "I know you miss Neal, but taking my son isn't going to replace him."

"No, of course not..."

"Rumple," Belle said. "Did you take their children?"

He stared at her for a long moment, tears gathering in his eyes. _Crocodile tears_, Killian would say. "Yes," he whispered.

"Where are they?" Regina yelled. "You give them back right now, Gold, or I'll..."

"I _can't_!"

"Then tell us who has the dagger," said Snow.

Rumple closed his eyes.

"You were able to tell Emma about Zelena," Belle said. "How is this any different? You want us to trust you, after everything you've done? Then tell us who is controlling you."

"I can't."

Belle took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Then I can't trust you anywhere near our child."

Rumple's eyes snapped open. "Belle, no!"

"No, she's right," said Snow. "Either you're telling the truth, or you're covering up another Sorcerer's Hat scheme. No matter which way you look at it, you can't be trusted."

"Belle, please!"

"I never want to see you again until those _children_ are returned safe and whole, and you make up for everything you've done. And I mean everything, Rumple. No more whitewashing. No more excuses."

And so, Belle left with Snow and Regina. By nightfall, all of Storybrooke knew what Rumple had done. They searched fruitlessly for the children, and all of Gold's tenants banded together to sign a letter threatening to never pay rent again until Rumple returned the infants unharmed. Leroy nailed the ultimatum to the door of the pawn shop after Rumple had gone home for the day, then smashed all the windows for good measure.

By morning, half the shop was looted, and the rest trashed. The library, Granny's, Town Hall, and Game of Thorns were all magically warded by Emma, Regina, and the fairies to keep Rumple out, and every other business in town posted signs refusing to serve Rumplestiltskin Gold.

Cars turned corners when they saw the black Cadillac, and pedestrians crossed to the other side of the street when they saw Rumple. No matter where he went, people acted as if he didn't exist unless he specifically called them out on it. Even then, he was more likely to be cursed at than to have an actual conversation.

When he gave up and went home, there was a well-dressed scarecrow burning on his front lawn.

Storybrooke congratulated itself on such a united and well-executed protest. Everyone marveled at the lack of retaliation from the Dark One and agreed to continue with more of the same. It was just a matter of time, they said, before the town monster gave in to their demands.

Only Archie hesitated at the extreme prejudice the town embraced. The tales of little victories, of shop owners and tenants surviving encounters with the outcast Dark One weren't jiving with the popular reputation of a ruthless monster. Rumplestiltskin could have killed them all if he wanted to. Backing down in every encounter on the first day without turning a single person into anything nasty or hurling a single fireball went completely against expectations. He remembered the look in Mr. Gold's eyes when he came to see him while they were still under the curse, trying to explain his worry that his long-lost son had come back to kill him. It was the same look he saw now when he happened to cross paths with the man.

When he mentioned this to Belle, she asked if he believed Rumple's claim of being controlled again.

"If he is, it wouldn't be the same as it was under Zelena," Archie said. "She flaunted her power, but a different master might be more subtle. Without evidence, it's nearly impossible to tell. Rumplestiltskin might play with words, but he was never in the habit of lying before Zelena."

"So you think he might be telling the truth?" Belle asked, aghast. He'd broken her trust too many times lately, and the missing children wasn't even the half of it. Inexplicable acts of sabotage continued to cause chaos in the town, ever since they'd gotten rid of Mr. Hyde and his cronies. Since Rumple's admission of kidnapping, they'd been able to connect the dots of some of the incidents as possibly being little acts of revenge against his enemies, but there was no proof, and many incidents appeared to have no connection to Rumple at all.

"I can't say anything for certain," Archie said, "but I'm inclined to believe that whatever he's doing or not doing, he strongly believes he has no other option."

"There's always a choice," Belle said.

"Unless he's being controlled," Archie pointed out. "Even so, once a choice is made, for good or ill, hindsight can make it seem like the only choice. And sometimes, there is no going back."

The town-wide persecution of Rumplestiltskin continued far longer than anyone expected. They would have torched the pink house if not for the fear that it was where he was hiding the children. No one had been able to search it because it had been warded to keep even Belle out. The shop was a ruin, and the Caddy a scorched shell. No one had seen Rumple in weeks, but strange incidents continued to fill Regina's mayoral inbox.

Perhaps the least surprising but most amusing was the disappearance of food and grocery items from homes and stores. The Dark One might be immortal, but he still needed to eat in a town that wouldn't sell him the time of day. Regina would rather the imp starved if it would get baby Robin returned, but she couldn't take the risk of causing the babies to starve as well. Besides, protecting a whole town's cupboards and refrigerators was beyond anyone's power.

The town was so distracted by their hatred of Mr. Gold and their concern for the missing children that no one saw the curse coming until it was too late. A cloud of yellow magic descended without warning or explanation to swallow the town whole. Only the pink house was spared.

Rumplestiltskin sat at his spinning wheel in the basement, watching the curse fog the windows. The imp perched on a table, fingering the dagger and giggling at Rumple's despair.

Dr. Jekyll's serum didn't account for Dark Ones bound to magical daggers. It had succeeded in separating light from dark, but the Dark One got the dagger while Rumple kept the magic. No one knew the dagger's power better than the combined darkness of all previous Dark Ones, and the imp made sure to leave very few loopholes in his commands.

After the forced kidnapping, Rumple took advantage of the only loophole he could to send the children somewhere they would be safe and cared for. The imp was disappointed, but Storybrooke's reaction was so delightful that Rumple avoided further punishment. After all, he was the imp's favorite plaything.

And after the mist settled, they'd have a whole new playground.


	9. Of Hearts and Daggers

**An alternate ending to 6x04 "Strange Case"**

**WARNING: This was written for Rumple Angst Fest. It does NOT have a happy ending. MAJOR character death.**

for leni-ba

Prompt: The end of the story

Premise: Rumple uses / is forced to use Jekyll's serum. Established rules apply (doppelganger is invincible, the original must be killed). The Imp ends up with the dagger, which remains tied to Gold.

**SERIOUSLY: Why do people watch movies about the Titanic when they know how it ends?** This is exactly like that. Rumple knows he's going to die in this one. YOU know that Rumple's going to die in this one. Have I put enough warnings on this yet?

**YOU ARE FORWARNED**

* * *

**Of Hearts and Daggers**

The dagger sunk into Hyde's chest, but he didn't fall. Instead, he laughed and returned the favor with a syringe aimed at Rumplestiltskin's heart. Still in shock that his plan had failed, Rumple jerked back, pulling his dagger out of Hyde's chest, but not quick enough to escape the serum being pumped into his bloodstream.

The effect was quick, tearing him apart from the inside. He tried to resist, knowing just how big a mistake it would be to let the Dark One wander free, but he couldn't stop it. The dagger fell from his hand as the pain became too much to bear. He screamed. Fear, rage, pain. It felt like he was falling away from himself. Then it was over, and he dropped to his knees, gasping for breath.

His soul felt lighter, but only for a moment, before he watched a glittery gold hand close its fingers around his dagger.

* * *

The Imp left him there, disappearing in a cloud of red magic, taking the dagger with little more than a giggle as explanation. Rumple wasn't sure what to make of that. It was him, but not. If the Imp was the darkness, why had it let him live? Then again, they didn't know the extent of their division yet. If Rumple hadn't dropped the dagger, the first thing he would have done was test its control of the Imp. But as the Dark One? No, the Imp ran away to examine the change first, deliberately leaving Rumple in the dark, to live with the uncertainty of his continuing freedom.

Rumple stood. He had to check on Belle, warn her of the danger, even if she wouldn't listen to him. Hyde was running his mouth again. Gloating, by the sound of it. Rumple wasn't listening. His magic failed to respond, which either meant the Imp got all the power, or Rumple was subject to the dagger. Neither option was good for anyone. He started walking, and Hyde followed.

Despite the accusations of those who called him a coward, _running_ had never had anything to do with it. Cripples can't run, and Dark Ones don't need to. He could remember running exactly twice: once down the stairs in the Dark Castle when he saw Belle returning, and the other when he ran from Zelena, filled with desperate fear, chased by flying monkeys, and driven mad by the voices in his head. No matter how quickly he'd rather get to Belle now, it wouldn't do either of them any good if he was out of breath when he got there. Besides, he knew that the Imp wouldn't hurt her until he got there.

Only it wasn't the Imp he should have been worried about. When they got to the docks, he heard Belle screaming for him to take down the wards on the ship. He tried, but again his magic didn't respond. He caught a glimpse of her attacker just before Hook shoved Jekyll backwards onto a harpoon.

Rumple started to move towards the ship, but stopped when he heard Hyde's dying gasps. He knew he should check on Belle, warn her, but he couldn't look away from the evidence of his own fate.

"So you did it. You killed him."

He looked up to see Regina standing there, an idiotic look of hope on her face. It made him sick. "No," he said. "I wish I had. Turns out the only fool-proof way to destroy one's doppelganger is by killing the original." That wiped the smirk off her face, but it didn't make him feel any better.

"Wait. You're saying the way to take out the Evil Queen..."

"Is to kill you." He watched her process the implications, saw the moment she decided to walk away, and had to stop her. "Regina." She turned back to him, and he held out his hands. "You're not the only one. I don't have the dagger, and I can't use magic."

"I thought you liked the darkness."

"Unlike you, I wasn't foolish enough to choose this. The other me is me at my worst. And he might be able to control me."

Regina stepped closer, studying him. "I've known you a long time, Gold. What aren't you saying?"

Rumple looked over his shoulder at the _Jolly Roger_ where his former nemesis was comforting his estranged wife. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Regina. "Remember what you said back in Neverland? That if anyone was going to kill me..."

"It'd be me."

"I need you to keep that promise."

Regina shook her head. "Gold, no..."

He grabbed her wrist to keep her there. "Take my heart. If the Imp needs to be stopped, do it. Crush it before he makes me do something I can't come back from."

"But Belle... your _child_..."

He tried to smile, but couldn't manage to force his facial muscles into a position that was remotely reassuring. "I can't protect them. The spell I put around the ship was designed to keep out the wrong monster, and now all it does is make Belle a sitting target because I can't remove it." Regina still looked uncertain, but they were running out of time. He lifted her arm by the wrist he was holding and placed her palm on his chest over his heart. "Do it. The other me could come after her any moment now, if he's not here already. And if I'm still tied to the dagger, then he'll have no qualms about using me to do his dirty work. Be the hero you're so desperate to be and _just do it_."

He leaned into her hand, and was surprised when it actually went through him. His eyes drifted back up to Regina's.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her fingers closing around his heart.

_No matter_, he thought. "Better you than your evil twin. Promise you'll protect them?"

Regina nodded. "With your life."

She withdrew her hand, and with it, his heart. He staggered back, suddenly unsure. But it was too late. He had to remind himself that it was for the best.

He could hear Belle and Hook calling to them, and when he turned around, he realized how it must seem. Regina summoned a box to keep his heart safe in, and together they approached the ship. Belle was tight-lipped and disapproving, while the pirate was doing an admirable job of pretending Christmas hadn't just come early.

"Did you really just put the Crocodile's heart in a box," he asked Regina, "without getting turned into a snail?"

"Keep your pants on, pirate," Rumple drawled. "You may yet get your wish." He stopped at the foot of the gangplank.

"Rumple, let me off this ship right now or I might just let him."

"Oh, I see. Threats, now, is it? My, how the mighty have fallen." It wasn't what he wanted to say, but how could he help it when she wouldn't listen? She didn't _understand_.

"Cool it, bookworm," Regina said. "He can't. Don't you think he would have by now if he could? Now, will you let us come aboard to explain, or are we going to have this out right here?"

Belle glared at Rumple, her arms crossed and a determined frown on her lips. She wasn't going to let him near her, was she? He tried to gather some anger at her stubbornness, but he just felt empty. If she could just put aside his mistakes for one moment... He didn't want their quarrels to stain her memory of his final moments, didn't want their son to grow up believing the worst of his father.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Belle softened and waved them aboard. They followed her into the cabin, where she set about preparing a pot of tea. Hook and Regina took seats around the table, but Rumple hung back in the doorway.

He didn't belong here. This was Belle's space, and she'd made it abundantly clear he was to have no part in it. But he couldn't bring himself to leave. She deserved to know. He watched her serve the tea, pouring four cups, passing two to Regina and Hook, keeping the third, and leaving the fourth on the table. She sat at the head of the table, in a chair that was clearly hers because of the cushioned seat and the flowery shawl draped over the back. She never even looked at him.

His fingers went to the ring on his left hand, fiddling with it out of habit.

"So what's this about the Dark One's heart and not removing a bloody spell?" Hook prompted.

Rumple caught Regina looking at him sympathetically, and quit playing with his wedding ring. He cleared his throat. Belle continued to sip her tea, her gaze fixed on the center of the table. "Hyde managed to force his serum into me," he said. "The Evil Queen isn't the only doppelganger we need to worry about right now."

Was that a twinge of concern in Belle's eyes? No, not for him, anyway. Surely she'd find some way to blame him for this as well.

Hook stared at him. "You mean there's another one of you running around Storybrooke?"

It was hard to keep the venom out of his voice. Wasn't that what he just said? "Oh, yes. I'm sure your old friend the Crocodile would love to thank you for hiding his wife from him again."

"Rumple!" Belle snapped, finally looking at him. "Killian offered to help. He didn't kidnap me. And I'm not that creature's wife!"

"Sorry to disappoint you, dearie, but you are. You are as much his wife as you are mine, because until half an hour ago, _he was me_. These wards won't protect you from him."

"Oh, and I suppose you will?"

"With my life."

The silence that fell was uncomfortable. He was making a mess of things, as always. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths to calm himself, waiting for realization to hit.

Belle was first to speak. "Hyde died because Killian killed Jekyll... so you... No. You can't mean..." She couldn't say it any more than he could. Was that supposed to make him feel better?

"Have you ever known him to joke about dying?" Regina asked softly.

"But... Rumple, no! There must be another way!"

_Oh, sweetheart_. Why did their reconciliation always have to come when his life was on the line? Why couldn't she accept him as he was? He couldn't stop the tears that filled his eyes as he looked at her. "He has the dagger, Belle. There is no other way."

Hook swore. "Bloody hell, Gold! You come on my ship with that kind of time bomb?"

Regina cut in. "The only thing we know for sure is that Gold can't access his magic. We don't even know which one of them the dagger controls."

The pirate was right, though. The Imp didn't have to be here in order to command him. On the other hand, it wouldn't matter where he was if the Imp wanted him here. He was a danger to the entire town, whether he was here on the outskirts or strolling down Main Street.

Belle looked confused. "If we could get the dagger back, maybe it could control him instead of you. Regina having your heart is..."

"A fail-safe," he said. "Look, assuming all that is true, how can you intend to keep the Dark One on a leash?" He had to pause, forcing his memories of his captivity to the back of his mind where they belonged. "It won't last. It never does, and he won't thank you for it." He was done with this farce. He couldn't stand here and listen to Belle talk about enslaving the part of him she rejected. He turned to the door. "Just thought you should know before he gets here."

The argument continued once he left, but no one tried to stop him from leaving. He wandered to the bow of the ship, where he'd have a good view of anyone approaching while being as far away from that cabin as possible. He considered going back to his shop to wait out the inevitable with a bottle of good scotch, but thought not knowing what was going on would prove more intolerable than being here.

Turning, he realized he stood in the same place where he'd emerged from Pandora's Box back in Neverland. Bae had stood just there, in front of him. And miracle of miracles, he'd been _happy_ to see Rumple alive and safe. He'd somehow learned that Pan was his grandfather, and finally he'd _understood_ and _forgiven_ his papa because, dammit, he wasn't the same as Pan. He'd come back.

Too bad there would be no coming back this time.

* * *

When the Imp hadn't shown up by nightfall, Belle sent Rumple home to get some rest. If he hadn't come by now, she reasoned, he might not come at all. Regina would stay the night just in case, but they were beginning to doubt that any real threat existed.

The way Belle said it with an air of exhausted frustration told Rumple she still hadn't forgiven him. No doubt she didn't believe that he _couldn't_ take down the protection spell keeping her trapped, but was just too tired to fight him about it. He wondered if Regina's supposed sleepover plans were just a ruse to get him to stop worrying and leave.

He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay with Belle and get her to see that he really was trying to do what was best for her and their child. In the past, when they'd fought, he always let her walk away. This time, though, he'd prevented that, so he had to be the one to go. And he did.

He walked back to the shop. He'd left the Caddy there, and with each block he walked, that bottle of scotch he kept in the back room was sounding like a grand plan.

He took a shortcut through the alley and went in through the back door. The clink of glasses greeted him as he turned on the light.

"Took you long enough, dearie!"

Rumple froze. The Imp sat perched on the back of a chair, his feet planted on the seat, and a glass of scotch in his hand. The open bottle, sitting on the table between him and his drinking partner, the Evil Queen, was almost empty.

"We've been talking about you for hours!" Regina's doppelganger crowed. They both laughed, sending shivers up Rumple's spine.

"What do you want?" he forced himself to ask.

The Evil Queen hopped off the table and sashayed over to him. He couldn't tell if she was drunk or doing that on purpose, but her breath reeked of scotch as she said, "Oh, just wanted to see if this still worked."

The dagger materialized in her hand, and she plunged it into his chest before he could react. His first thought was that his heart wasn't in his chest, but then she twisted the blade in the wound and all thought left him.

His legs buckled, and she followed him down to the floor, the forgotten scotch glass in her other hand tipping and spilling its contents on his suit. He could feel it soaking through his pants. The Imp giggled as she leaned into the blade, laughing and making faces at him. Pouty. Ouchy. Kissy. He was blinded by the pain, her weight on top of him making it hard to breathe.

The last thing he heard was the crashing thump of a tipping chair and a falling body.

* * *

**A/N:** Turns out I couldn't have Regina crush his heart after all. I don't really think she would have, anyway, not after what happened with the Count of Monte Cristo. I also don't believe the Imp was the kind of threat Rumple was expecting. I couldn't make him attack either Rumple or Belle.


End file.
